


A Softer Sort of Courage

by ProcrastinatingPalindrome



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crying, Drama, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2020-12-27 02:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21111419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ProcrastinatingPalindrome/pseuds/ProcrastinatingPalindrome
Summary: Hubert had been taught from an early age to guard his heart, to hide any sign of weakness away so that it could never be used against him. He couldn't understand Ferdinand, who wore his heart on his sleeve for all to see.(Alternatively, five times Hubert saw Ferdinand cry, and one time their roles were reversed.)





	1. Verdant Rain Moon, 1180

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything in so long, but I'm trying to get back into the swing of things with a multi-chapter fic. Please forgive my slowness, I'm quite rusty. Also not much angst in the first chapter, but worry not, the angst will be coming! I love Ferdinand and Hubert, so of course I have to hurt them and make them cry. But I promise a happy ending too, if I manage to finish this damn thing.

Hubert had not intended to find Ferdinand that day. Truly, he was happier avoiding the younger man altogether, though it was difficult for Hubert to say why Ferdinand grated at him so. Certainly, he wasn’t the only loud-mouthed fool at the academy. The academy was full of idiotic young nobles who believed they were the goddess’ gift to the world, obsessed with their own status and imagined superiority. Ferdinand was not unique, no, but none of the others irritated Hubert quite so much as he.

Perhaps it was simply because Ferdinand was so obviously nothing but talk. He loved the sound of his own voice (and name, goddess be damned,) loved to speak of his grand ambitions as Prime Minister, of his own honor and virtue, but how long would any of that last once his ideals were held to the fire? Hubert knew people like Ferdinand, all talk until action was required, seemingly full of loyalty and patriotism until it truly mattered. Just another self-serving parasite, just like Ferdinand's own father. They were the first to crumble under pressure, the first to turn when the fair weather ends. A simple airheaded fool could perhaps be forgiven, but there was nothing Hubert despised more than a false friend and traitor.

Lady Edelgard would be better off if he simply left for another house and saved them all the inevitable trouble. The trend had become more common as of late. Lysithea had transferred to their house last month. She was sharp and hardworking, and seemed to have great admiration for Edelgard. These were all traits Hubert approved of. Sylvain had joined them recently as well, which Hubert was much less pleased about. That boy was a frivolous idiot who would waste his entire life chasing after women who could do much better if he was left to his own devices. He did seem to be a bit more clever than he initially appeared, and had made some passing comments about the role of Crests in society that were not at all incompatible with Hubert and Edelgard’s stance on the matter, so perhaps he was not entirely useless.

Hubert had hoped that perhaps Ferdinand would leave for the Golden Deer, much as he and Lorenz seemed enamored with each other, but now there was talk that Lorenz would join the Black Eagles too. If that came to pass, there would truly be no ridding them of Ferdinand von Aegir.

It had seemed a blessing when on that day, Ferdinand was curiously absent. He had been at breakfast, but then had seemed to vanish once everyone else had scattered to enjoy a day without classes. Hubert couldn’t care less what that fool did with his free time, but it was curious that he hadn’t been at any of his usual spots.

Still, it wasn’t worth worrying about. It would probably be too much to hope that Ferdinand had fallen into the fishing pond and drowned, or met a similarly ignoble end. No doubt the idiot would show back up again in no time and return to his usual business of irritating Hubert. But until then, he would enjoy the quiet. Hubert had found himself with a rare moment of free time that afternoon, having finished with all his duties for the day, and headed to the library.

The library, when empty, was a peaceful sanctuary. The collection was both large and eclectic, and Hubert had found a number of fascinating books that suited his own particular interests. The Venerable Antony’s documentation of poisonous plants across Fódlan had been particularly enjoyable.

He had just started to dig into a book of ancient torture devices when he heard the first sniffle. It was faint, and might have been ignorable if it wasn’t repeated again a few moments later, and again. And again, accompanied by hitching breath. Someone was crying, that much was certain.

Hubert was not one to care about the emotional state of his fellow students, but there was some benefit to be found in observing them in vulnerable moments and collecting their secrets. One never did know when an opportunity for blackmail would arise, and so he tucked his books under his arm and crept silently closer to the source of the noise.

Sat at a table, holding a book in one hand and a handkerchief in the other, was Ferdinand von Aegir. As Hubert watched, he sniffled again, dabbed at his eyes and turned a page in his book, apparently too absorbed in his reading to realize that he was being watched.

There was something unnerving about this, about such an unashamed display of vulnerability. Why on earth would Ferdinand allow himself to cry in a public place where anyone could stumble upon him? Perhaps it was mere stupidity, but even a fool should have the base instincts to guard himself better. An open display of weakness would be taken advantage of. That was one of the first lessons Hubert had learned from his father as a boy.

Enough of that nonsense. Hubert set his books down on the table with a slam. This earned him a startled yelp from Ferdinand, who slammed the book shut, hastily swiped at both eyes and leapt to his feet.

“Hubert!” he sputtered, flushing brightly. “What are—why are you—how long have you been standing there?” Even with watery eyes and a face reddened from weeping, Ferdinand was still aggravatingly handsome. His red-gold hair was still perfectly in place, just as it always was, and the flush on his cheeks only brought out his freckles. A regular fairy tale prince, even when crying. How disgusting.

“Long enough. At least blow your nose properly. I despise the sound of sniffling.”

Ferdinand’s blush darkened further, but he did follow instructions, turning away politely to blow his nose and muttering some half-baked excuse about allergies. “It is unbecoming of a noble to skulk around like that,” he huffed as he tucked his handkerchief away. “You ought to have announced yourself to me.”

Hubert sneered down at him. “I had no intention of interacting with you today, but your sniveling was most bothersome. Dare I ask what nonsense you are reading?”

“I do not think I am required to tell you anything,” Ferdinand said peevishly, hugging the book protectively to his chest, “particularly since you were so impolite to interrupt me. And I was _not_ sniveling. The—the bookshelves were simply very dusty.”

“Ah, so it’s something too shameful to admit to. I can only imagine what kind of filth-”

Ferdinand bristled up at that, looking so much like an angry orange cat. “It is _not_ filth! This is _A Tale of Two Knights,_ by Lady Katarina von Freja. You may have heard of the opera by the same name, it was an adaptation of the novel. It is the story of two soldiers who begin as sworn enemies, but later find themselves to be fighting on the same side, and through their devotion to a shared cause they fall in love and-”

“I did not ask for a synopsis. I merely curious what you were blubbering about. I might have guessed it was some foolish nonsense.”

Ferdinand flushed darkly again, caught between anger and embarrassment. “I do not _blubber._ I was—I simply—I will not allow you to shame me for allowing my heart to be moved by a classic tale of chivalry and love!”

“A classic, bah. All that word means is enough self-important nobles decided that they like it for one reason or other. Plenty of ‘classics’ are utter trash.”

To his surprise, Ferdinand actually appeared to stop and give this some consideration. “You may be correct, in general terms. Certainly it is not right that the few at the top are the sole authority on which works are valued more than others. But all the same, this particular book is truly a masterpiece.”

Hubert raised a sardonic eyebrow. “And who precisely is judging it as a masterpiece?”

“I am!” declared Ferdinand. “The prose is elegant and refined, and yet holds such raw emotion! I have read many books, but few other authors can capture the depth and complexity of the human heart-”

“You’re an idiot, and I have no doubt any book you’ve decided to waste an afternoon on is nothing but frivolous garbage.”

“On what grounds do you judge the book as garbage?” Ferdinand snapped, apparently more irritated by the insult to his book than the one directed to himself, “You have not read it, have you?”

“I don’t need to. The fact that you enjoy it is damning evidence enough.”

“There, you see? You are just making blind assumptions!” Ferdinand drew himself up to his full height at that, which was not terribly impressive when the top of his head only just reached Hubert’s nose. “How do you expect to properly serve Edelgard if you pass judgement without investigating the matter first? You will judge wrongly if you allow your biases to sway you so, and such mistakes will cost you and Edelgard dearly one day.”

Hubert opened his mouth to retort, and yet to his surprise found himself momentarily without a reply at the sudden shift in the conversation. “That is quite a stretch just to defend some ridiculous book,” he settled on, annoyed that Ferdinand had managed to catch him off guard.

“It is not just about the book!” Ferdinand continued, folding his arms crossly. “You have been like this for as long as I have known you. You always assume you know best, that your snap judgements are always correct, and yet you make no attempt to understand a different perspective! You would like to imagine you are so very clever-”

“Only more-so then you,” Hubert snapped, trying to ignore the uncomfortable twist in his stomach at Ferdinand’s words, “but that is a very low bar indeed.”

Ferdinand threw up his hands with an undignified noise of annoyance. “Why must you always be so unpleasant? I was having quite a fine day, but your presence has thoroughly spoiled my good mood.” He turned sharply to gather up another stack of books that Hubert hadn’t realized were also his. He took a quick glance at the spines, expecting to see more soppy, melodramatic titles, but instead caught sight of _Corruption and Ethics_ and _A Study of Adrestian Educational Reforms_. Those were…surprising choices for Ferdinand, but they had already disappeared into the younger man’s arms before Hubert could consider them further.

Ferdinand appeared about to make a rather huffy exit, but then stopped, seemed to consider something, and turned back to the bookshelf before pulling out another book.

“Here,” he said, placing the tome atop Hubert’s stack of books left unattended on the table. “The library has a second copy of _A Tale of Two Knights. _I will not listen to any further criticism of my taste in books until you have at least tried it for yourself. Once you have read it, I would be happy to debate its virtues with you further, though you will of course find that I am right and you are wrong. It would do your cold, black heart some good to read something other than…” He tipped his head, glancing at the other books Hubert had collected, “_A Field Guide of Deadly Poisons_? Ugh, you really are a dreadful person.”

Hubert rolled his eyes. “Better a cold, black heart than a head full of air. What makes you think I want to waste my time with your terrible taste in literature?”

Ferdinand gave a childish little stomp of his foot. “Fine, then! Do not read it! Prove me right! You are nothing but Edelgard’s small minded lackey and I do not care what you do!” And with that, he finally marched off, stomping audibly down the stairs and out the library door.

What utter nonsense. What pointless drivel. As if Hubert would waste a single minute of his time indulging Ferdinand’s idiotic whims. And yet, after all that fuss…he was curious. It was just idle curiosity that kept him from returning the book to the shelf, nothing more. He had other books to read, more interesting books, but he could afford a few brief minutes to read the first chapter. Only the first chapter, mind. He wasn’t reading the damn book because of what Ferdinand had said. It was nothing more than simple curiosity.

The first chapter really wasn’t as bad as he had expected. The prose was a bit purple, certainly, but the author had a surprisingly good grasp of politics and court intrigue in her fantasy kingdom, and the characters were not entirely unlikable. And so he read the second chapter. And the third. And if he stayed up entirely too late reading in his room that night to find out what happened next, there was no need for Ferdinand von Aegir to know.


	2. Lone Moon, 1181

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry it took so long to get the second chapter out. I got busy after I put out the first chapter, and then 2020 happened. Things have been a bit rocky, but I hope to get back into the swing of things! Thank you for your patience!

When the years of planning finally bore fruit, when Edelgard had finally passed the point of no return, everything seemed to happen all at once. In a flash, they were enemies of the church, the truth exposed to their classmates, and against all the odds, the professor had chosen to stand by their side.

Hubert had badly misjudged Byleth, and had never been so glad to be wrong.

The professor, to her great credit, had immediately matched the frenetic pace around her. They barely had a chance to catch their breath after arriving at the provisional camp before she was heading out again, back to Garreg Mach, to the rest of her students. She needed to speak with them, she said. She needed to tell them what was truly happening, not just whatever version of the truth the church was handing out, to let them decide which path to follow. They deserved to have that choice.

Hubert hadn’t allowed himself to hope that any of their classmates would follow Edelgard. Better to prepare for the worst than suffer disappointment. And yet…nearly all of them had returned with the professor, although not without difficulty.

Hubert was informed later that Rhea had immediately tried to put the monastery on lockdown following the confrontation in the Holy Tomb, guarding all the exits to keep any potential allies of Edelgard from entering or leaving. The professor managed to infiltrate the monastery with the help of a gatekeeper she had befriended, and consulted with her students about the matter in secret. The ones who wished to follow had then met up and snuck out through an exit the professor had learned of in the Abyss. They had almost escaped undetected, but had been spotted on the road leading out of the monastery and were pursued by the Knights of Seiros into the surrounding fields. Fortunately, the knights who set upon them had been few in the number; the church was in such a state of chaos that they had failed to notice Byleth’s actions until it was too late. By the time their escape had come to the knights’ attention, there wasn’t time to send out a large enough force to stop the professor’s rouge band.

And so they had returned to Edelgard’s side, a little battered but alive and present and at least willing to hear what she had to say.

Some of those who came weren’t terribly surprising. Dorothea was so fond of Lady Edelgard, and understood all too well how deep the corruption and depravity ran into the nobility who had only achieved their status by the luck of their blood. Lysithea and Sylvain knew firsthand the suffering that the Crests brought; Lady Edelgard’s quest no doubt spoke to them.

Others had been more unexpected. Hubert had thought Bernadetta’s anxiety would hold her back, but she had followed with the rest of the Black Eagles, trembling with nerves but still there despite her fear. Hubert wouldn’t have faulted Petra if she had felt that she couldn’t risk Brigid’s precarious position by joining their war, and yet she had weighed her obligations and still chose to throw in her lot with Edelgard.

And then there was Ferdinand. Miserable, disgraced, pathetic Ferdinand, trailing along after the rest of his class with his eyes on the ground, his uniform sleeve tattered and stiff with blood where a sword had struck his shoulder during the skirmish with the knights, scarcely uttering a word. The silence ought to have been a relief, but instead it was such a stark difference from his usual loud, obnoxious behavior that Hubert almost found it unnerving.

Ferdinand’s very presence was bothersome enough in its own right. It simply didn’t make sense, and it nagged at Hubert every time they happened to pass by each other over the next few days. The younger man seemed to look even more pathetic every time Hubert paused to study him. His always-tidy hair was now a mess and looked to need a wash, his skin was pale with exhaustion and there were heavy bags beneath his eyes. The jacket he wore as a student had been destroyed from the injury he sustained against the Knights of Seiros. He had taken deep wound to the shoulder that may have cost him the use of his arm if Linhardt hadn’t been near and quick with a healing spell; magic had mended flesh and sinew, but the jacket and shirt beneath had been too badly torn and soaked in blood to be worth salvaging. Someone had found him a replacement coat of plain, coarse wool that clashed oddly with his uniform trousers.

Ferdinand’s situation was far from unique; simple luxuries and creature comforts were in short supply for all at the provisional camp. If Hubert was perfectly honest with himself, he would have gladly killed for a hot bath and fresh change of clothes. And what he wouldn’t do for one good strong cup of coffee…but they were at war now. Enduring some physical discomforts was the least any of them could do.

While Ferdinand hadn’t voiced any complaint, it seemed odd to see such a shabby garment on a man who had always worn the finest of everything. But then, House Aegir had truly lost all they had. Every asset had been seized; every privilege revoked. Ferdinand von Aegir had nothing left but his name, and Hubert could not fathom why he was still here.

Upon Byleth’s return, Edelgard had spoken to the group at length and granted them a week to think on it all, to have the time change their minds and to be free to leave if they felt they must. She wanted them to read the manifesto, to ask any questions they had, to decide if they would choose to walk this path with her. She did not want her classmates to stay by her out of fear or ignorance of what she was fighting for, but a week was all the time they would be allowed. After that time had passed, any who remained would be expected to be loyal and diligent in their service.

Ferdinand should have left right then and there. He had an easy exit, one that offered no penalties. Why did he remain? Was it simply pride or stubbornness? Did he imagine that he still had a future as the next prime minister? No, surely even Ferdinand wasn’t that stupid. Perhaps he thought Edelgard may reward him some of his old privileges if he groveled enough, although Hubert hadn’t seen any such behavior thus far. In fact, Ferdinand had barely interacted with Edelgard at all as of late. He had listened to her speech, took the distributed copy of her manifesto…and then he just seemed to lurk about the camp like a ghost, lost in some haze within his own head and offering no answers as to why he hadn’t fled with his tail between his legs.

The problem was not going to resolve itself. Hubert would have to confront Ferdinand himself to get to the bottom of this, and if Ferdinand’s reasons for continuing to chase after Edelgard were as shallow and flimsy as Hubert suspected, he would see to it that Ferdinand was removed from their camp one way or other. Threats would probably be enough to chase him off, if worded properly. Ferdinand didn’t seem particularly resilient at the moment. 

As luck would have it, Ferdinand was not alone when Hubert tracked him down. Lorenz had gotten to him first and Hubert had no desire to converse with two irritating people at the same time, and so he slunk back into the shadows, listening.

“-will be fine,” Ferdinand was saying, with a weary smile that did not reach his eyes. “There is no need to worry about me, truly.”

Lorenz sighed. “I know, my friend, but still I am concerned for you. All the trouble with your house and your father, that can’t be an easy thing to bear.”

“The world does rather feel as though it has been turned upside down,” Ferdinand said with a miserable little laugh, dropping his gaze to the floor. “I…all my life, I had imagined my life to follow a certain trajectory, but now…” He swallowed, and a tremor entered his voice when he spoke again. “I know my own troubles are—are nothing next to the greater matters at hand, but I still…” There was a definite hitch on his next breath. “M-my father is not a good man, I know that, I know, but I—”

Ferdinand ducked his head, bringing his hands up to hide his face, and Hubert watched Lorenz’s expression jolt into alarm and concern.

“Fo-forgive me,” Ferdinand choked from behind his hands, “I know this is…is unbecoming of a noble—”

“There, now,” Lorenz said hastily, grabbing Ferdinand by the shoulder and steering him away to a nearby storage room, presumably to provide some semblance of privacy for the younger man’s breakdown.

Hubert clenched his teeth and did not follow them. There was no need. That little scene only confirmed what he already knew. Ferdinand was a spoiled child born with a silver spoon in his mouth, and fell to pieces once the spoon had been snatched away. His misery was surely that of every other corrupt noble who now found themselves laid low by their emperor, mourning only for their own lost fortune with not a single care for how many had suffered from their selfishness and greed.

Why, then, did Hubert suddenly feel so angry? This only proved that he had been right about Ferdinand all along. He was a weak-willed brat who didn’t have the spine or stomach to walk the path Lady Edelgard would tread. He had known Ferdinand would be the first to crumble under any real pressure, but instead of the vindication he should have felt, Hubert only had a sour feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Perhaps it was simply because Ferdinand had dragged this farce out far too long, insisted on playing the part of the honorable and virtuous man until Hubert had started to wonder if, perhaps, there was some scrap of integrity in him after all. Maybe a piece of him had wanted to be wrong.

But no, Ferdinand was cut from the same cloth as his father. Another bloated leech like Ludwig von Aegir, who had impotently raged and begged for mercy by turns when he was stripped of the power he had never earned or deserved. They needed to be rid of Ferdinand as well. Dispose of the spoiled apples, cut away the rancid parts of the meat.

Hubert waited an hour, in the hopes that Ferdinand would have stopped his weeping by then. It wasn’t an act of compassion. He simply didn’t want to watch Ferdinand wailing and carrying on about his fall from grace. The very thought of such a pathetic display was nauseating.

The hour passed, and Hubert found Ferdinand again without much trouble. He was thankfully alone this time, sharpening the end of his spear with a whetstone. He seemed…different, somehow. The distant, distracted look that had hung over his eyes for the past few days was replaced by something sharper, focused. His shoulders did not sag in defeat. His eyes were red and a bit swollen, but they held a strength and determination that hadn’t been there an hour ago. This was not the broken, sniveling whelp Hubert had expected to find.

Ferdinand’s head snapped up when he heard the approaching footsteps. “What do you want, Hubert?”

It didn’t matter. This changed nothing. “I realize you have nothing between your ears but your own inflated ego,” Hubert began coldly, “so perhaps it has slipped your mind. Allow me then to remind you: Lady Edelgard has offered everyone the chance to leave our forces without consequences. She has been more than merciful to anyone who doesn’t have the stomach for her war.”

“Yes, I am aware.”

“Then perhaps you are also aware that this offer is not indefinite. The time you have been allowed is a week, five days of which have already passed.”

“I know this as well,” Ferdinand said sharply. He put his whetstone away, rest his spear against the wall and stood to meet Hubert’s gaze, hands clenched by his sides. “Hurry up and say whatever it is that you have come to say. I have no patience for you today.”

“How unfortunate that your _patience_ isn’t worth the smallest of my consideration. But I too would rather keep my conversations with you as brief as possible, so allow me to get to the point: what are you still doing here?”

Ferdinand gave an indignant little huff. “I have decided to follow Edelgard, of course. I would have thought that was obvious.”

“You’ll have to forgive me for doubting your motives,” Hubert sneered, “after you’ve been moping around the camp like a melancholy ghost these past days. It must be so hard, suddenly finding yourself in a world where your name means nothing, where you are so longer handed everything on a silver platter simply because of the luck of your birth.”

“I am not—” Ferdinand began weakly, a flush of shame rising in his cheeks, but Hubert pressed on, relentless.

“You can surely understand, then, that I find it hard to believe that you now want to devote yourself to the very person who is responsible for the loss of your gilded way of life. What is it, then? Do you think Lady Edelgard might return your status if you play at being the faithful servant? Perhaps you would like to grovel, see if she is takes pity on you? Your own father tried being a lickspittle too, at first, but he soon learned that there will be no mercy for parasites—"

“I am _not_ my father!” The outburst from Ferdinand came so sudden and fierce, it stopped Hubert in his tracks. The room was silent for a moment, except for the sound of Ferdinand breathing sharply through his nose. “I am not,” he repeated, quieter this time. “I do not remain here for my own benefit. I…I stay because I have read Edelgard’s manifesto, and I have listened to her speak. I have thought on this long and hard from every angle I could consider, and I can only conclude that hers is the most just path to right the wrongs that have plagued our land for generations. I have a duty to act in the best interests of the people of the empire, of all of Fódlan.”

It took Hubert a moment to choose his next words. “Yes, I’ve heard you speak excessively about your duty as a noble, as the scion of House Aegir, but let me remind you, your status and family is worth less than the soil beneath our feet.”

“Even so,” Ferdinand said stoutly, “I still have a duty, as a son of Adrestia, and as a human being. Do we not all carry that duty, to act in a way that serves the greater good?”

“Nothing but pretty words,” Hubert scoffed. “Do you expect me to believe you care more about the greater good when you were weeping on Lorenz’s shoulder about your fall from grace not an hour ago?”

Ferdinand took half a step back at that, his voice coming out as an indignant squeak. “You have been _spying_ on me?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, you aren’t worth spying on. I simply happened to stumble upon you during one of your more pathetic moments.”

Ferdinand’s eyes were on the ground now, his face red. “I will not deny that I have struggled with…with all of this,” he said softly, “It has been…overwhelming. The life I knew no longer exists. But all the same,” and now his eyes came back up, some of the fire from earlier returning, “all the same, I believe in Edelgard’s cause. I believe that what she is fighting for is right, and so I will follow her for as long as she holds true to her ideals. Another path may be kinder to me, but if I value my own fortune over the good of Adrestia, of Fódlan, then I am—I am no better than—”

His voice cracked there, just a little, but he took a deep breath, blinked hard, and pressed on. “Besides, I feel that I also have a responsibility to Edelgard, to guide and advise her, and ensure that she is always acting in the best interests of the people. I believe in her cause, but some of her methods concern me. If I am ever to be the prime minister—”

“You still don’t seem to understand your current circumstances,” Hubert snapped, trying to ignore the odd feeling in his chest that had been building while Ferdinand spoke, “The position of the next prime minister will not simply be handed off to the next of House Aegir. Your birthright means nothing. It is actions alone that will earn the right to rule.”

He had expected Ferdinand to slump in defeat, or perhaps another round of tears, but instead the younger man squared his shoulders. “Then allow me to earn it! Give me a task, let me prove the strength of my convictions!”

“I’m not the professor. I’m not going to assign you homework, and if you think you can earn mine and Edelgard’s esteem by jumping through a few hoops like a trained pony—”

“Never mind, I do not need your assistance. I will find a task myself. Has anyone taken inventory of the weapons we have in supply?”

It was almost tempting to lie, just to take the wind out of Ferdinand’s sails. “Other affairs have been of higher priority, but I will have someone get to work on it this afternoon.”

“Do not trouble yourself, I will see to it myself.”

And with that, Ferdinand was off, with such focused determination that he left the spear he had been sharpening still propped against the wall.

Nothing but foolishness, Hubert told himself. Ferdinand would no doubt run out of steam soon enough, once he realized that there would be no rewards, no special treatment. Hubert would be watching, until that day came, until Ferdinand grew tired of this farce. There would be no mercy for deserters, then.

And yet…he had been wrong about the professor. Perhaps there was some small chance that Ferdinand had truly meant all those pretty words. Perhaps he did believe in Edelgard’s cause, in serving the people. Perhaps…perhaps he would remain.

Ferdinand vanished for the rest of the day, and Hubert tried not to waste too much thought on him. He hadn’t intended to find Ferdinand in a supply room at the crack of dawn the next morning, hunched over a crate he was using as a desk, fast asleep on top a stack of papers. There was a quill still in his hand, a nearly empty ink well, and the dribbled remains of a burnt-out candle.

Curiosity got the better of Hubert. Slowly, carefully, he tugged a page free from beneath Ferdinand’s cheek. Ferdinand stirred slightly, muttered something incoherent in his sleep, and then settled into silence once again. Satisfied that the younger man was sleeping, Hubert looked over the paper. It was indeed a weapons inventory, still incomplete and with a messy blotch of ink near the bottom of the page, presumably where Ferdinand had finally succumbed to exhaustion and let his quill bleed into the parchment when it fell from his limp hand.

If Hubert hadn’t known that Ferdinand had only begun this task the previous afternoon, he might have thought this was the product of several days’ work. The notes were remarkably thorough. Ferdinand had listed not only what weapons they had at their disposal, but how many were of poor, brittle iron and how many were made of finer and more durable metals. He had noted which were in good condition and which would need to be repaired before they were fit for use. Several weapons were marked as having particular uses, such as a mace that would be effective against armor, or a bow that had been enchanted with magic. This was clearly the product of hard work and dedication.

There was an odd feeling in Hubert’s stomach, unfamiliar but not unpleasant. A symptom of withdrawal from the lack of coffee, maybe. It was easy enough to shake off, and not worth thinking about. Hubert returned the paper to the makeshift desk, quietly so as not to wake Ferdinand, and left to start his own tasks for the day.

Ferdinand submitted his finished inventory the following evening, pages of detailed notes that even impressed Edelgard, as distracted as she was with other matters. After that, he created a report of their horses, pegasi and all associated equipment at their disposal, from the saddles to the pitchforks in the stables. When he was assigned a battalion for the planned attack on the monastery, he threw himself into training with fervor. Hubert overheard Linhardt lecturing Ferdinand on working too hard, spreading himself too thin, and it did not sound unlike the lectures the healer had given Hubert himself on the subject.

The days passed and turned into weeks, and then months.

And through it all, Ferdinand remained.


End file.
